Plein Air Easton Hall of Fame 2025: Mary and Hall Kellogg

This article is part of a special series celebrating the 2025 inductees into the Plein Air Easton Hall of Fame. Now in its second year, the Hall of Fame honors individuals, organizations, and patrons whose dedication, creativity, and support have helped shape Plein Air Easton into the nationally recognized event it is today.

If you asked Mary Kellogg what year it all started, she might tell you 2013–or maybe 2014. What she knows for sure is this: someone mentioned there wouldn’t be a Vanishing Landscape Award that year because no one could identify a scene that qualified. Mary disagreed, suggesting three vanishing landscapes on Tilghman–the barns at Gray Goose Farm, the Crow Brothers’ oyster planting boat, and Harrison Seafood. All three have since disappeared, except for one remaining barn.

That’s when Mary picked up the phone and called the Avalon Foundation. She didn’t know who to talk to, so she asked for Executive Director Al Bond and introduced herself. She told him the Tilghman Watermen’s Museum, which she and her husband, Hall, had founded in 2008, could help make the award happen—and that Tilghman had plenty of vanishing landscapes to choose from. If that was the holdup, they’d find a way. He said yes.

It was the start of a relationship that has lasted decades.

The following year, it was Al’s turn to call. Artists were arriving early for the festival and looking for places to paint. Would the Museum be willing to host a pre-competition paint-out on Tilghman Island?

Mary and Hall said yes, without quite realizing what they were signing up for. They had maybe three weeks to pull it together. They opened the Museum early for sunrise painters, kept water and snacks on hand, and made sure the air conditioning was running when the heat rolled in. They didn’t even have easels—just folding chairs to prop up the paintings. “We were unprepared,” Mary said. “But it went off. The artists liked it. So we did it again.”

And again and again for several years. The artists kept coming, and the Kelloggs kept showing up. Then, about three years ago, Tilghman became an official part of the competition.

Which is just fine for the Kelloggs, as they love getting into the whole spirit of the event. Hall said one of the most amazing things is watching the painters start the day with a blank canvas and seeing what they’ve created by dinner. To Mary, there is the surprise in having artists bring to life and see things she’s long since stopped noticing.

She remembers one artist painting a huge stack of old baskets behind a crab house–baskets that were falling apart and about to be burned. He asked Mary to make sure no one moved them before he could return to finish the piece. The crabbers were confused but agreed. “That’s what I mean, an artist will stop and paint a pile of broken crab baskets or something held together with duct tape. And it turns out beautiful.”

That kind of eye—for overlooked beauty—is something Mary and Hall have long tried to support. The Artist’s Choice Award, handed out year after year, wasn’t funded by the Museum’s budget, but by friends, neighbors, and community members who believed in the same thing: giving artists the space and resources to do what they do best. That part, Mary emphasized, was important to her. And it speaks to how she and Hall operate—quietly, without seeking recognition, and with a clear sense of purpose.

Though they’ve since stepped back from running the museum, they’re still involved—and always ready to help make things happen. “We said we’d retire,” Hall said. “But we’re not going anywhere.”

They’re also continuing to be part of the Plein Air Easton community, “It’s been wonderful,” Mary said. “I’ve loved working with the staff. They make it easy. They make it fun. And it’s been amazing to watch the artists grow.” Hall added, “We’re just happy to help however we can.”

That’s part of what makes their nomination to the Hall of Fame feel so fitting—and so surprising to them. They never looked for credit. They never needed a spotlight. They just showed up, year after year, doing what needed to be done.

When the phone rang this year—with Al Bond on the other end—it wasn’t to organize an event or brainstorm a new idea. It was to let them know they’d been chosen for the Hall of Fame. Mary said she was stunned. “I was honored. I still get shaky thinking about it,” she said.

Hall put it simply: “We’re low-key people. This isn’t something we ever expected.”

And maybe that’s what makes the recognition feel just right. The artists have changed. The festival has grown. But the heart of it—neighbors making space, opening doors, and putting water on ice for whoever shows up with a canvas and a brush—that part hasn’t changed at all.

Thanks to people like Mary and Hall Kellogg, it never will.